


Broken Triangle

by WandererofStars



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererofStars/pseuds/WandererofStars
Summary: When your good friend Fiddleford invites you to work with renowned genius Stanford Pines on a secret project, nothing could prepare you for the horrible secret you would uncover after what seemed like a promising scientific research for the benefit of mankind.This work is a commision to the lovely Fordy and her love for angst. ❤





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> About the Fidds/Reader: Fiddleford doesn't carry on a romantic relationship with Reader. However, they have a strong friendship and that constitutes a relevant relationship to the story, as you'll find out.

You read the email for the third time as you carried your bags, barely believing your longtime friend had contacted you to be part of an ambitious project:

 

_[_____]! It’s been five years since our graduation. Time really flies, doesn’t it?_

_I heard you’re taking a Doctorate in Multidimensional Paradigm Theory at West Coast Tech. Our mutual friend in Palo Alto also told me you’ve been looking to work on a case study to prove your thesis on the existence of rifts in the fabric of space-time. Rifts that, once properly widened, could work as portals to other dimensions and even other universes. Well, guess what?_

_Remember that friend I told you about who earned a hundred thousand dollar grant from Backupsmore? Stanford Pines, brilliant student and both math and physics genius? He’s been working on building one of such portals at this very moment! He has drawn a very specific blueprint of how it should work and look like once it’s operational. But there have been inconsistencies in the calculations for making such a device work...particularly in regard to the destination - or destinations - of the portal._

_So I’ve been thinking: we need an expert on multidimensional theory. Someone who can help us both solve the mathematical inconsistencies and suggest safe and feasible ways to test the portal. And who better than YOU?_

_I hope you’ll accept my invitation to come to Oregon, to a little town called Gravity Falls. It is here where Ford built a shack to safely run his experiments. Seriously, I would very much like if you were to come. Even I, a physicist and inventor, feel stumped by the complexity of this project. We could REALLY use a hand here! Preferably yours. Plus, I know you’re a diehard fan of UFOs. Let’s just say there’s something resting deep beneath this town I believe you should see with your own eyes…_

Best wishes,

****

 

You called Fiddleford’s number - or just Fidds, as you usually called him -, standing in front of what looked like a remote shack on Gopher Road, 618.

‘Fiddleford McGucket.’ he replied with his usual neutral voice. For some reason, your friend sounded a bit tired.

‘Fidds, it’s me! [______]!’

His tone immediately changed upon hearing your name.

‘[______]? I can’t believe it! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice!’

You found it odd that he sounded so relieved when you had spoken on the phone just a few weeks ago.

‘Well then, come outside and greet me! I’m standing outside the shack as we speak.’

‘Oh. Right!’ he said, ending the call.

You carried your heavy bags toward the shack when the door opened and out came your laid back, easygoing friend from Palo Alto. He wore a lab coat and his usual Hawaiian-themed shirt. He walked toward you with open arms, a genuine smile splattered across his face, saying your name out loud.

‘[____]! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’

You hugged him back, feeling his skin was a bit colder than usual. You took a proper look at his face and found his skin was also rather pale. He had deep shadows under his eyes, either from lack of sleep or stress. His eyes also looked dry and slightly bloodshot.

He wasn’t lying. He had all the symptoms of someone who was overworked and sleep-deprived. Who knows for how long had he and his colleague been working on their own, trying to crack the mysteries of multidimensional physics? It was a good thing you had accepted that invitation.

‘It’s good to see you too, Fidds! Shall we go inside?’

He helped carry one of your bags and motioned for you to enter the shack.


	2. 2

The first week of work had been all about learning about the portal. According to the head of the project - to whom you were properly introduced and learned was called Stanford -, he had decided to use his grant to research anomalies in our world. The more he researched, the more he was convinced the oddities he found were the result of another dimension bleeding into our own. But he didn’t stop there.

Once he realised the possibility of there being other universes and rifts in between them, he decided to take his research further and explore the viability of multidimensional travel. In other words, how to allow for mankind to explore other worlds and universes without the need for starships and space travel. If such a feat could be accomplished, then it would mean a huge leap for mankind.

And the best way to accomplish such a feat was to build a portal. A transdimensional gateway between our world and the Multiverse.

But not everything was as great as it seemed.

You had spent the first week analysing the blueprints and calculations Ford and Fiddleford had produced so far. The portal’s dynamics seemed...unusual to you, to say the least. Plus, the diagrams looked foreign to you, unlike anything you had grown used to in Engineering School. They didn’t seem inspired by any human construct you had ever seen. Either Stanford was a visionary genius or he had copied this design from an unknown source -probably linked to military intelligence and NASA - and refused to share it.

Another thing that bothered you were the constellations drawn on the rim that adorned the entrance to the portal. You knew they were esoteric in origin. Old druids used them to perform sinister rites, thought to invoke astral beings from other dimensions. But why was Stanford placing them on the portal? What was the point?

‘Ford, are you into old xamanism or something?’ you dared to ask during dinner.

There was an awkward silence, broken only by Fiddleford munching on his salad.

‘...No. Why do you ask?’

You mentioned the constellations around the portal.

‘Oh, that! Well, as you know, the zodiacal constellations around Earth form an elliptic orbit. But what not everyone knows is that there is another set of constellations which orbits our Solar System. And each constellation in that particular set is aligned to the rifts on our planet.’

You had heard of that theory before. But astronomers disagreed on whether it was true or not. There was simply no way the phenomenon could be studied with today’s technology. But Stanford had come to firmly believe there was enough evidence to support it.

You ate the rest of your meal in silence as he explained how many historical monuments were built to be aligned with the constellations, taking into account the planet’s rotation and translation, shooting one or two casual glances at Fidds’ as his partner spoke. You noticed your blond friend kept his head down all the time. He shared your thoughts about Stanford’s wild theory, but preferred to remain silent.

Dinner was finished and you prepared to bathe and go to bed when Stanford wished you both goodnight. Once he was out of sight, you saw Fiddleford backtrack and gently grab your arm, asking you to follow him silently.

He took you back to the kitchen, speaking in a low voice. For some reason, he really didn’t want his partner to listen to your conversation.

‘You heard his theory today at dinner?’

You couldn’t hold back how you thought the whole thing made no sense.

‘Precisely. You see, Ford’s blueprint is actually accurate in many aspects. That portal, once built, has a high probability of widening the rift and lead...God knows where. And that’s where my concern begins. And... **the reason why I called you here.** ’ he glanced at you.

Fiddleford explained how his calculations didn’t result in the portal landing to many dimensions, as Ford claimed it would. Rather, it seemed to lead nowhere. Or better yet, to a non-existing plane of existence.

‘How so?’ you asked, confused.

‘I’ll gather Ford’s calculations from three months ago, ever since we started working on this and I’ll show you.’

You warned him it would take you a while to analyze so much information.

‘Don’t worry, [_____] I’ll help you. We’ll do it together. Also, you should wear some hiking gear tomorrow. There’s something you need to see with your own eyes.’ he smiled, the weight on his shoulders gone for a moment.

Excitement coursed through your veins as you realised he was speaking about that UFO bit in the email.


	3. 3

Fiddleford had planned to take you to Crash Site Omega all by himself, but Ford insisted on coming along. He would have to find another chance to talk to you in private.

You marvelled at the UFO buried deep into the ground. You took pictures of everything with your phone, gathering evidence of extraterrestrial presence on Earth. Your colleagues at West Coast Tech would go crazy once they saw all this!

‘So that’s where you get your parts to build that portal!’

‘Where else would we find such rare metal composites?’ Ford answered, removing a metal panel with Fiddleford’s assistance.

Later that day, you worked hard to try and dismantle that panel so it could be converted into one of the portal’s many pieces. You didn’t manage to finish the task before midnight and decided it would be best to resume work tomorrow. Ford remained behind, taking notes on his journal about today’s progress. You admired his dedication, but worried he might be overdoing it.

‘Does he always stay up late like this?’ you asked Fiddleford once you were in the lift.

‘Yes. And yes, I’ve already told him to go to bed early. If you want, you can try to convince him. I give up.’

‘What the hell does he have to write everyday in that journal that’s so important?’

‘Dunno. As a matter of fact, I don’t even want to know.’

‘...why not?’ you pressed on.

Fiddleford sighed, trying to find a way to answer your question.

‘Ford is guy who likes to keep his secrets. He doesn’t share everything he thinks with others. He wasn’t always like this, though.’

The lift arrived and you missed your chance to continue the conversation. There was so much about Fiddleford’s reclusive friend you wanted to know. But more importantly, why did Fiddleford speak about Ford with a hint of resentment whenever his friend was out of earshot?

Something was up.

* * *

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and before you knew it, the three of you were already living together in the shack for over three months. Ford and Fiddleford had gotten so used to your presence by now they didn’t even freak out whenever you left the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around your body, or when you walked around the shack at night and early in the morning wearing only your shirt and underwear. Sure, you still caught them talking a quick glance at you now and then, but the boys were generally very well-behaved.

Every night you would dine together and watch some TV before sleep. On weekends you had movie night and would order a pizza. You’d drink some beer, share some good laughs and start all over again next week.

The three of you had gotten so close and worked in such perfect sync that, per your insistence, you got matching tattoos on your wrists. A **golden equilateral triangle** symbolized your partnership, which you jokingly called the Holy Trinity of Science amongst yourselves.

Ford stared at the new tattoo on his right wrist, enjoying the double meaning that triangle now had for him. He couldn’t tell his new partners about his **Muse** , but it didn’t prevent him from delighting in this particular happy coincidence. One might even call it... **fate**. If he believed in such things, that was.

* * *

At first, as you revised Ford’s equations with Fiddleford, you didn’t notice the problems he had pointed out at first. Only after weeks of painstaking work did you begin to see evidence that, once built, the portal would lead to nowhere before it lead to multiple dimensions. Or rather, to a space that could be defined as either negative space or simply not existing. Unless there was a negative dimension that lie between your world and the Multiverse out there. But why go through this negative dimension rather than just calibrate the portal to lead straight to the Multiverse? Ford’s logic was at fault here.

For some reason, Fiddleford had advised you to pretend Ford’s math made sense while you were in his presence. But whenever he wasn’t around, you and Fiddleford discussed what was Ford thinking when he projected the portal.

‘This is why I called you here.’ Fiddleford told you as you talked in the kitchen one late night. ‘I only know about Calculus and Newtonian Physics. But even to me, the final result of the equations doesn’t match what Ford told me about this project. Doesn’t he want to pave the way to other dimensions? Then why lead us to a place that supposedly doesn’t exist?’

‘You’re right. I’ve reviewed all the equations used in this project and the variables just don’t behave as expected. Unless Ford is hiding something, this portal will be a failure - and a dangerous mechanism - the moment it is turned on.’ you pointed out.

‘I’m glad someone agrees with me! I mean, all indicates the portal will become a gateway to negative space. It’s like opening up a black hole!’ he began pacing the kitchen ‘Last week, when I pointed that out to Ford, do you know what he replied?’

You shook your head.

‘He said the fault lay on the imprecise readings he had gotten from the rift!’

You arched an eyebrow and snorted. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Unless the instruments he used were calibrated incorrectly, there should be nothing wrong with his readings.’

‘And there wasn’t. I double-checked everything.’ Fiddleford remarked ‘Anyway, I asked him to check the data for myself. Everything seemed to be in order. The data was within normal parameters.’

‘How did he react when you pointed that out to him?’ you asked.

‘He insisted we had to take into account “unobservable variables” originated from other dimensions. Otherwise, the portal could become unstable. So we had to estimate their effect based on conjecture. As if any scientist with a modicum of common sense would resort to it! How absurd is that?’

‘You must’ve thought Ford didn’t know what he was doing.’ you pointed out.

‘I’m so frustrated.’ he said, agitated ‘Half the time I feel like he doesn’t tell me anything. He just keeps writing in that journal, using codes so that no one will spy on what he’s writing...frankly, it’s so stupid, it’s...it’s childish. There, I said it. Ford can be a child sometimes.’ he vented out.

You were finally witnessing where Fiddleford and Stanford’s friendship really stood.

‘“ _Compensating for unobservable variables_ ”... and this guy won a hundred thousand dollar grant?’ you said.

Fiddleford shared a knowing look with you..

‘I told him his calculations were wrong! But he asked me to trust him. I had no choice but to call you. He just kept refusing to look at the equations’ results! I just...I don’t know what to think anymore.’ he scratched his forearm, seeming lost.

Fiddleford rubbed his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, looking tense and exhausted. You put down the reports he gave you containing all his equations on the counter and gave him a heartfelt hug. He let out a long sigh, months of internal struggle ebbing away, allowing you to comfort him. Sooner or later, the both of you would have to confront Ford about this. You couldn’t just allow the scientist to endanger every life on the planet based on his mistakes. You started thinking on the best way to talk to Ford about this in the next few days as you rested your head against Fiddleford’s shoulder.

Unknown to the two of you, Ford had listened to your entire dialog from the corridor. A pair of yellowish eyes blinked one at a time, followed by a wide toothy grin.


	4. 4

**The next day…**

You checked your wristwatch and saw it was already late. You could continue measuring the neutron emission from the rift tomorrow. You suggested to your coworkers you call it a day and head back upstairs.

Fiddleford was about to take the lift with you and Ford when…

‘Ford, aren’t you coming with us?’ you turned around and asked.

He turned to you, hands in his pockets, heading to his desk.

‘Hm? Oh, not yet. I still have to finish writing today’s entry.’

You saw him grab his journal and open it, pen at hand, ready to scribble away. You and Fiddleford shared a knowing look.

‘Well, good night.’  you wished him, heading back upstairs with your friend.

**Later that day…**

It was already past midnight when you left your bedroom to check whether Ford was still down in that lab scribbling away at his journal. You heard some distant laughter and thought your mind was playing tricks on you. You decided to check Fidds’ and Ford’s bedrooms, to know if either of them was up this late at night when you noticed Ford hadn’t gone to sleep. The wall clock showed it was four am.

‘I can’t believe this shit. Is he crazy or what?’ you murmured to yourself, heading down to the lab. As the lift arrived at the third floor, you found Ford with his back turned to the entrance writing on his journal. You noticed the lights were off. And yet he kept writing. You tried to flicker the switch, but the lights weren’t working. _What the hell_. Suddenly, you heard Ford giggle once in the dark, his voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched.

Something in that tone made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

You swallowed hard and called his name. This was your partner, Ford Pines. There was nothing wrong with him.

‘Ford?’ you managed to say without stammering.

He slowly turned his head to look at you, **a wide grin** splattered across his face. **He blinked one eye at a time** and you noticed **his sclera were yellowish** now. His pupils were also thinner than usual, resembling **slits**.

‘Well, if it isn’t [_____]! I’m kinda busy at the moment, but I can spare a few seconds for ya. Anything you want, sweetie?’ he asked in an oddly cheery voice.

You wondered whether he was on medication, though no mental condition or pill could explain this sudden change in behaviour. Words failed you as you witnessed such an abrupt change.

‘What’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue? Come closer, let me have a proper look at you. C’mon, I don’t bite!’ he continued in that eerily cheerful tone.

You reluctantly approached him, moved by fear rather than any wish to talk to him. This weird version of Ford kept smiling at you, freaking you out. And what was the matter with his eyes? Why couldn’t he blink like a normal person?

He let out a whistle as he checked you out.

‘Boy, that noodly brainiac sure is lucky. All this time he had a girlfriend like you and he never told me! Been keeping the treasure all for himself, the selfish bastard.’

You exclaimed ‘What?’ Was he truly referring to Fidds?

‘So, how do you like working with me, hon? Being here, all day long, doing these tedious calculations, meh. Doesn’t sound like much fun. Why don’t you and I do something more...interesting instead?’ he wiggled his eyebrows.

You took a step back, creeped out of your mind. You had been working with Ford for three months now and you had never seen him act like this. Once he realised you were about to leave, he followed you and slammed his hand over the button panel, staring at you with those reptile eyes and sinister grin.

* * *

 

You stared back at him, refusing to let your fear overwhelm you. Ford didn’t motion to attack you. Nevertheless, his impulsive act coupled with his apparent calm was unsettling you to the core.

‘Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You were going to go back and tell brainiac number two about how Sixer doesn’t seem quite like himself tonight, weren’t you?’

He advanced one step toward you, making you take one step back.

‘Oh yes. I heard your little talk the other day with him in the kitchen. Don’t worry, sugar, I’m not here to call you out on it. Matter of fact, you’re right. That portal won’t lead to other dimensions. Rather, it’ll lead to one single place. A fun place, you might call it. If you and I share the same sense of humor, that is.’

He then glanced at the tattoo on the inner side of your wrist. A distinguished golden triangle rested against your skin.

‘Ah, yes. The symbol of **your** friendship. Who’d have thought? Out of all the symbols you could’ve picked up that you’d choose **this particular shape**. And it wasn’t even Sixer’s suggestion! It’s ironic when you think about it. Though a dummy like you wouldn’t get it!’ he grinned even more widely, giggling.

‘A what?’ you growled, feeling insulted, removing your wrist from his grasp.

‘Now now, pussycat, don’t get mad. There’s A LOT you and I need to talk about.’ he turned from you, walking toward the incomplete portal, holding his hands together behind his back.

‘Talk about what? Y-you’re not acting normal!’ you asked, sweating and shivering in fear of...whatever Ford was playing at.

‘I am perfectly sane. Or perfectly insane. _Depends on who you ask_ .’ he winked at you. ‘You and I HAVE to talk. There are things Sixer has not told you. About the portal. About its construction. About the Multiverse. And above all, **about where it leads**.’ he said, his back still turned to you.

This was it. The entity or creature responsible for Ford’s odd calculations was finally revealing itself. But if it was helping a human scientist build a bridge between dimensions, then it meant…

That thing, whatever it was, wanted to cross over to **your** world.

And that thing was controlling Ford’s mind and body with ease. Millions of questions rose in your head. You wondered whether Ford was aware he was being possessed. If he had consented to this or if his mind was violated by this entity. If they had conceived the idea of the portal on their own or if Ford had helped to come up with it. And how the entity was able to control a human being so easily.

And if one of these creatures had such power...then the other beings from the world it came **would be able to do the same to all mankind** with the same ease.

Ford turned to look at you again, blinking one eye at a time, grin never leaving his face.

‘I have been living in a limited dimension. A place you and brainiac two upstairs have named the negative dimension. I was quite impressed when I heard that name! You know, for human beings, you are not as stupid as you look.’ he scratched his chin ‘For indeed that place isn’t properly a dimension. **It’s an in-between**. And like any non-existing place, there aren’t supposed to be people living in there.’

‘Where are you from?’ you asked in a shaky voice.

The question seemed to make him hesitate.

‘From a place that no longer exists.’ it smiled, and its smile felt empty ‘The important thing is, the in-between exists in all dimensions. If you want to get from universe A to universe B, you must cross MY dimension first. There’s no way around it. This is why I helped Sixer build this portal.’ he gestured to the half-finished creation ‘Without my help, you’d have tried building one of your own and found out too late that you had failed.’

You didn’t know whether he was lying or telling the truth. Then Ford was aware of his calculations being wrong all this time? He knew about the negative space and yet LIED to Fiddleford, to his closest friend and research colleague? Something about this didn’t make sense.

‘But why help us? Why choose Earth?’ you pressed him.

‘Why, it’s simple. I can’t stay in-between forever. I need to move to a proper universe. And the closest place to my current whereabouts is... **here**.’ he said, gesturing to the lab ‘In your world. In your universe. It’s just a matter of...being practical. So what do you say, sugar? Are you ready to let me help you open the doors to infinity and beyond? To travel the Multiverse without the need for starships and other...unnecessary complications?’

He extended a six-fingered hand to you, as if waiting for you to shake it. His smile was impossibly wide now. And the way he stared hungrily at you with his reptile gaze terrified you.

Your instincts screamed everything about what he told you was a lie. You stared at him, doing some quick thinking. You needed to get as far away from this creature as soon as possible. And you needed to distract it for as long as possible until you and Fiddleford could leave the shack safely.

You took a deep breath, doing your best to pretend you were not shook by the encounter. You didn’t shake their hand. Rather, you stared him in the eye and said:

‘I think we should have this discussion with Fiddleford present, don’t you?’

The creature stared back at you, smile faltering almost imperceptibly.

‘I can’t make decisions on his behalf. He’s the one Ford chose to help him with this project, not me. He must hear all that you told me from your mouth and make a decision.’ you insisted, crossing your arms.

The entity pretended everything was fine and agreed, letting you take the lift to summon your colleague. You turned your back on them without saying anything and entered the lift, pressing the button to the first floor...

The lights went out and the lift abruptly stopped. Somehow the electricity to the shack had been cut off. You had no doubt this had to be the work of that weird entity. You forced the doors open and saw yourself on what had to be the second floor. You had never been here, and neither had Fiddleford. The door seemed to be unlocked.

You entered the place and what you saw shook you to the core.

Statues, paintings, carpets, books, drawings, everything in this room was centered around one and only one theme: **a golden equilateral triangle with an All-Seeing Eye**. The place was obviously a shrine of worship to that one triangular entity. And it didn’t belong to Fiddleford. Worry crept into your mind when you thought of Ford decorating this place. For how long had he known that entity to the point he had come to worship them as some form of God?

 _“Ah, yes. The symbol of_ **_your_ ** _friendship. Who’d have thought? Out of all the symbols you could’ve picked up that you’d choose_ **_this particular shape_ ** _. And it wasn’t even Sixer’s suggestion! It’s ironic when you think about it.”_

You stared back at your tattoo. Only now did you understand what those words meant. The irony felt bitter and made you sick to your stomach. It was clear to you now Fiddleford’s friend was no longer in their right mind. One might say he looked as if he had crossed the line between sanity and insanity.

You stared hard at the gigantic statue of that golden triangle.

_This whole project is a lie. This isn’t about building a goddamn portal. This isn’t about benefiting mankind. It’s about allowing that THING inside our world!_

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. The constellations around the portal symbolized an ancient magical rite: the rite of spiritual possession. There was the presence of an entity that entered your mind. And you had felt a strong esoteric nature permeating this project. You just couldn’t pinpoint the source. Now you knew for sure.

You heard the door burst open and an unnaturally high laugh come from behind you. You recognised Ford’s laugh. With a feeling of dread, you realised he had come for you.

‘I was right. You ARE unusually clever for an evolved monkey. But playtime is over! I shall have fun with you before I end your life!’ he said, rubbing his hands ‘Maybe I’ll kill you and display your corpse for brainiacs one and two upstairs! And then set fire to it! Ooh! I could make Sixer do that in front of Noodly! That one is just one step away from losing his mind! How’s that?’

You saw Ford march toward you, the slits of his sickly yellowish eyes locked on you like a predator stalking his prey. He was going to kill you, possibly strangle you to death. He was standing between you and the door. There was no way out.

You grabbed the nearest triangle-shaped statue and stared back at him, breaking in a cold sweat and wheezing in panic. He laughed at your actions.

‘And just how do you think that will work against me? C’mon, sugar, give up! Game’s over!’

‘No, it isn’t.’ a third voice said firmly from behind him.

‘Wha-’

Ford didn’t have time to turn around and see who it was when a blue ray hit his head, blinding him temporarily. Aiming a weirdly-shaped gun at the possessed scientist was a certain fierce-looking blond scientist, holding the trigger unrelently.  

‘Fiddleford!’ you yelled, teak-stricken, relieved to see your friend.

‘[_____], **get out of here! NOW**!’

You knocked Ford down by smacking the statue against his head. He collapsed on the floor, giving you enough time to escape. Fiddleford barred the door with some furniture that was left in the corridor and you both took a secret flight of stairs Ford had once mentioned to Fiddleford in the case of an emergency.


	5. 5

You had grabbed your things and packed your bags. As of today, you were abandoning that project forever. You never wanted to hear about Gravity Falls, portals or Stanford Pines ever again. To you, the whole thing was cursed.

‘I don’t understand why you’re staying. Once he wakes up, that entity will possess him again, and then...God knows what he’ll try to do to you!’

Fiddleford’s smile told you that he was aware of that.

‘He won’t remember what happened. None of it. Neither him, nor that entity. I made sure of that.’ he said, staring at the memory gun in his hand.

You approached him, staring at his invention as well.

‘I created this after some of our expeditions didn’t end too well. The whole ordeal was just...it was just...I couldn't handle it.’ he sounded exhausted.  

‘Does he know you have this gun?’ you asked, concerned.

‘He doesn’t know anything about it.’ he reassured you.

You grabbed his shoulders, trying one last time to plead for him to leave with you.

‘What’s left for you in this town? Ford is no longer in control of himself! The portal is a LIE, all of this is! You can take your family back to Palo Alto, invest in your portable computer project. Fidds, this is a project doomed to fail!’

He let out a long sigh. Truth be told, he knew the risks. But there was still one last card up his sleeve. Maybe there was still a chance Ford could be brought to his senses.

‘I can’t leave my friend like this. He helped me with so many of my personal projects when I was still in college. I owe this to Ford. I need to make sure he’ll survive this ordeal alive and well.’ he insisted.

You couldn’t believe how much he was willing to sacrifice for a lost cause.

‘And what if your sacrifice amounts to nothing? What if Ford does lose his life or his mind? What will you do, then? Will you just let him drag you down with him?’

Fiddleford glanced at the gun imperceptibly before replying.

‘Don’t worry. I have plans.’ he smiled, and that seemed like the saddest smile you had ever seen.

* * *

That morning, you left the shack and your friend behind with a mixture of relief and guilt. Your conscience told you to drag Fiddleford against his will away from that cursed place. But you felt honor bound to respect his choice. Maybe he knew what he was doing. Fiddleford wasn’t the gullible naive man people took him for. He was actually clever and resolute. You just worried his loyalty to Stanford was **blinding** him to potential dangers. Dangers that might cost his career, his sanity and, above all, his life.

The bus arrived and you asked the driver to help you with your luggage. As you passed your bags to him, you glanced one last time at the shack. You could see Fiddleford’s silhouette at the doorstep. You felt once again the urge to just return and drag him away from that madness.

‘Miss? Hey, miss?’

You startled and answered the driver you were ready to embark. Once you took your seat, you took one last look at the shack only to find Fiddleford was already gone. You stared at your tattoo, your heart feeling heavier as to what it now meant. As soon as you got back home, you would find a way to erase the golden triangle forever. But you knew the resulting scar could never be erased.

* * *

Fiddleford stared at his own tattoo and took a deep breath. He mentally thanked you for having helped him thus far. But he could no longer endanger anyone else like this. Whatever had happened to Ford, he would help his friend overcome it.

He finished writing his article, to which he gave the appropriate title of **The Astonishing Anomalies of Gravity Falls** and placed it carefully inside a folder. The date was January 17th. Him and Ford had been working on this project for almost six months. If everything went according to plan, Ford would listen to him this afternoon and forget this madness.

He took the lift, which was now back to normal after Ford’s possession was over and met his friend in the lab.

Ford greeted him as usual.

‘Fidds.’

‘Ford.’ he replied, pretending everything was normal.

They were each busy at their workstations when Ford turned to look at him.

‘Uhm...silly question, really, but...do you remember what happened last night?’

Fiddleford’s heart started racing, but he did his best to pretend everything was fine.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘It’s just...I came down to the lab to take some notes, and then... I can’t recall what happened!’

The physicist quickly dismissed it.

‘You’re just tired from overworking. I already told you to forget that journal and go straight to sleep. You never listen!’

Ford didn’t seem entirely convinced, but shrugged. He then went back to his tests, humming under his breath. Fiddleford let out a relieved sigh, glancing at the locked chest where his memory gun rested. He recalled last night as he kept the trigger pressed for a good thirty minutes until he had wiped out all of Ford’s memories from your participation in the project and last night’s events.

Now there was only one thing left to do…

He discreetly grabbed the gun and shoved it inside his lab coat. Then he headed toward the lift once again.

‘Need to use the toilet. Be back in a minute.’

Ford didn’t even raise his head as he mouthed an ‘Ok’. As Fiddleford waited until he arrived on the right floor, he was overcome with dread over what he was about to do. But did he have any other choice?

He glanced at the gun. The last three months spent with you were the most wonderful he ever had. He loved his wife, but being with Ford could be lonely. Plus, he no longer believed in their partnership as he once did.

He headed to the bathroom, staring at his worn out reflection. He gazed at the golden tattoo, feeling both happy by reliving the moments spent with the Holy Trinity of Science and hatred for what Ford almost had done to you, even though he wasn’t himself last night.

He calibrated the gun and pointed it to his head, the image of your face coming to him one last time.

‘Goodbye, [_____]. It was nice working with you once more. I wish I could never forget you.’

He pressed the trigger and the blue ray ate away at his memories, leaving nothing but a blank space in his already fragmented mind where you once were.


End file.
